Something Worth Fighting For xx Larry Stylinson
by feelsforbreakfast
Summary: It's only after the boys have been pulled into the war that they truly find something worth fighting for. World War II AU -on permanent hiatus-
1. Prologue

**So I know I said Summer, but hey! Are any of you complaining?(: Okay, few disclaimers on this one:**  
**1. I know that you're supposed to shave your heads for military service but there is not way I'm shaving the curls no no no you can't make me.**  
**2. What I know about the military I learned from watching Captain America. My World War II knowledge stems from my insane history teacher, a kid I bothered in English class last week, and about 10 minutes of internet research. So yeah. If I personally offend you with my complete ignorance, I'm terribly sorry. (:  
4. I know. Another title that has fight in it. YOLO.  
3. I may take slightly longer with updates (wed/fri as opposed to wed/fri/sat) as I'm taking a bit more time on this fic than last one, plus with musical and finals I'm a bit crunched for time. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! (:**

_Harry_

Harry knew as soon as he saw his mother crying at the kitchen table that he'd been drafted. She looked up as he approached, tear tracks plain on her face, little droplets of salt water staining the front of her faded green dress.

He walked slowly over to her, enfolding her into his chest and bending his head so his face was pressed into the warm brown twist of her hair. "I'll be fine, Mum. I'm strong. I'll be fine."

He wasn't going to be fine. He felt queasy and awful and achingly homesick for a place he hadn't even left yet. He didn't want to go blow people up thousands of miles away, he wanted to curl up in his blankets and never leave.

She sniffed, turning in her chair so she could wrap her arms around him, her hands trembling as they gripped the fabric of his shirt. "Just promise me you'll come back."

He felt tears prick at the back of his eyelids and squeezed them shut, refusing to cry, no matter how much he wanted to. If he was going to be sent away to fight, he couldn't cry. He had to be strong, for his mother, and for himself. "I'll come back. I promise."

_Niall_

Niall strode confidently into the drafting office, a carefree smile across his pink cheeks. He'd turned eighteen yesterday, and was more than ready to fight for his country. Ever since his brother Greg had enlisted, it had been a quiet ambition of his to follow in the older boy's footsteps. And now no one could stand in his way. He walked straight up to the pretty brunette behind the counter, leaning down to hit her with the full wattage of his grin.

She gave him a shy smile in response, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Hello, can I help you?"

"Sure can. I'm Niall Horan and I'm here to register for the Marines."

She giggled. "Your accent's rather cute."

"Thanks." He stood back up, pulling himself to his full height. "I'm a first generation Irish immigrant. Of course, I'm all American now." He grinned, liking the way the words sounded on his tongue.

The girl reached down, pulling out some official looking papers with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Niall, first generation Irishman. Just fill out these papers and you'll be all set."

He took them from her, bouncing over to a chair. He was going to be a Marine, serving the greatest country in the world. It was like a dream come true.

_Zayn_

It would have been okay if they hadn't found out he was gay. The racial slurs had been bad enough, but this, this was too much. It didn't seem to matter to them that he wasn't even black. The only thing that was of consequence was that he wasn't white, which made him second class.

He didn't tell his mother what had happened, hell, he hadn't even told his mother that he didn't exactly fancy girls in the first place. She already had so much on her plate already, what with caring for his sisters and running the house with his father off doing who knows what. So he merely told her that it was time for a change, and that he wanted to serve his country.

He didn't tell her that he secretly wouldn't mind dying. He didn't tell her that it was all he had left.

He just kissed her on the forehead and walked out.

_Liam_

Liam loved having a war hero for a father. He loved the way he used to tell stories of the war and those damn Nazis in his deep gruff voice, and pull out his medals with pride, just as shiny as the day they'd be awarded. He liked when he took out the photo albums and showed Liam pictures of the 'good old days.'

Given his legacy it was no wonder that Liam found himself enlisted at eighteen, and training a regiment of new recruits a year later. He was a good leader, a damn good one, and he never let his mind wander, never let himself wonder if this was really what he wanted to do with his life.

Because in the end, all Liam really wanted was for his father to be able to look at him with pride in his eyes, to shake his hand as an equal, for him to smile as he got off the plane and tell him that he'd served his country well.

In the end, he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

_Louis_

Louis knew what the letter contained before he opened it. It was thick, written on creamy, official looking paper. He opened it with shaking fingers, dread filling his stomach. The words seemed to taunt him, sliding and criss crossing across the page as he tried to process them.

_Drafted. Louis Tomlinson, drafted. The United States Marines._

His little sister bounded up to him, her dress dirty from playing outside all day. "Who's your letter from Louis? What does it say?"

He held the paper in trembling hands, trying to coerce his expression into something resembling a smile. Just the thought of leaving her and the other three made his chest ache, and the notion that he might not come back again... It was almost too much to bear. "It's says I'm going to be going away for a little while."

She grinned up at him, wrapping her arms around his leg. "When will you be back?"

He let the letter fall to the table, picking her up in his arms and letting out a sigh. "I don't know."

**Well? Any first impressions my lovely lovely readers? (:  
I'd like you to know that the working title for this story was 'Baby You Light Up My World War II' #noregrets**


	2. Chapter 1

**Buses were definitely invented in 1945 no what are you talking about. Wooh! Okay! First chapter out! Ack this whole third person perspective is throwing me off like nothing else!**

Chapter 1

Harry could feel nerves coiling deep in his stomach, sending anxious tremors down through his fingers. He swung his duffel up over his shoulder, the May sunlight warming the top of his head as he followed another recruit onto the big rusty bus. He turned to wave at his sister and mother one last time, pretending he couldn't see Anne's eyes water as she waved frantically, clutching Gemma close. He blew her one last kiss, stepping up the dusty stairs and into the vehicle before her tears became contagious.

Despite having the windows thrown wide, it was uncomfortably warm in the large cabin, the echoing shouts of the recruits not adding to the overall atmosphere of the place. Harry lingered in the doorway, as the chaos of men standing in the narrow aisles and shoving their belongings into the upper racks was not something he really wanted to wade through.

After receiving more than one impatient elbow to the back, he began tentatively down it, trying not to look too much like a deer caught in headlights. He scanned for an empty seat, dismayed to find that they all seemed to be occupied. He was seriously contemplating hanging it all and making a run for Canada when a friendly hazel eyed gaze caught his. The owner of the stare, a somber looking boy with a cigarette hanging from his lips, raised his eyebrows, glancing over at the empty space next to him.

Relief washed over Harry as he stowed his bag and slid into the proffered seat. "Thanks, mate."

The dark haired boy flashed him a warm smile, taking the cigarette from his lips and taping it on the sill, ash sprinkling the ground below. "No problem. This place is a madhouse."

Harry nodded in enthusiastic agreement as a nearby bag swung down and nearly smacked him on the head. He was reminded of the rowdy classrooms of his youth, except everyone was much larger and there were no girls to impress. Not that Harry had been all that interested in impressing girls.

The other boy stuck out a hand. "I'm Zayn." Harry took it, the carmel skin warm and rough under his fingers.

"Harry. Nice to meet you." He slid down in the seat, resting his knees up against the back in front of him.

Zayn gave him a nod, resting his feet on the top of the seat, a position that didn't look at all comfortable to Harry, but one he didn't bother questioning. "Likewise."

Harry studied the boy in front of him, his serious eyebrows and full lips and deep hazel eyes. He had an air of hushed introspection about him, as if he spent a lot of time hiding inside his mind. Harry didn't mind, he wasn't really all that good at small talk, and would be just as happy to sit in silence. Still, he decided to at least make an effort. This was his first chance to make a friend, and the boy beside him seemed nice, if a bit soft spoken. "You get drafted or enlist?"

Zayn paused a beat before answering. "Drafted. You?"

He nodded. "Drafted. No way in hell I'd do this willingly. I mean, props to anyone who would, but fuck no. Dying in some shit-hole is not really at the top of my priority list."

Zayn looked almost sad for a moment, but the emotion was gone before Harry could even be sure he'd seen it. "Not sure it's really on anyone's." He held out his cigarette. "Smoke?"

Harry shook his head, curls bouncing with the movement. "Nah. I'm more of a booze kind of guy."

Zayn shrugged, taking a long drag and blowing a few dainty smoke rings up towards the ceiling, his lips settling into a crooked smile. "Choose your poison, I guess."

A whistle cut the air, ending any further conversation. The two boys adjusted in their seat, trying to get a good look at the origin of the noise. A boy, one who looked not much older than them, stood at the head of the bus, his first finger and thumb still resting in his mouth. He was wearing a spiffy green uniform, a garrison cap perched jauntily atop his brown hair.

He stood up straighter as the cacophony of the bus turned to a dull roar as the last few people found their seats. "Hello recruits." He said, his voice steady and filled with a quiet sort of authority that cut through the rustling of fabric and whisper of voices. "I'm Sargent Liam Payne."

His eyes swept the bus, as if he intended to catch every marine's eyes with his own. "I know some of you may not have chosen to be here, you may be leaving behind family and friends and a good life, and for that I'm sorry, but before we get started here I want to make a few things very clear: I don't care if you don't want to be here, I don't care how rich or poor you are, or who you were before you came. The moment you stepped on this bus, you stopped being that person and you started being one of my boys."

He continued his once over, catching Harry's gaze and holding it for a long moment that made him sit up just a little bit straighter. "Now you're here to do one thing and one thing only, and that's to learn how to serve your country to the best of your abilities." A smile broke through his serious countenance. "Do you think you're all capable of that?"

A small assenting murmur echoed through the ranks.

"You know I was kind of hoping for a yes sir." Liam continued, leaning casually on the side of the seat.

He was rewarded with a slightly off-rhythm 'yes sir.'

"Well we're going to have to work on that." He said in good humor, something that Harry was taking as a very good sign. He had the strong feeling that while Liam was not going to be as easygoing as his debonair manner suggested once training actually started, he did seem to be a genuinely nice guy. "Alright, this is going to be your family for the next two months, so try to be nice, boys. Have a good ride."

"Yes sir!" Harry called out, realizing half way through that he was the only one responding. A laugh rippled through the bus, his antics even managing to coax a snicker from Zayn.

Liam looked over in amusement, pointing a finger at him. "Cheeky. I like it."

Harry shot him a thumbs up, sinking back into his seat as the Sargent sat down, the bus rumbling to life with a few spluttering lurches.

Harry turned to Zayn with a grin, his cheeks slightly pink from the earlier incident.

Zayn raised his eyebrows, expression sparkling with mirth. "You certainly know how to make an impression."

Harry's smile turned a bit sheepish. "Well at least we know the Sarge isn't a douche." When he'd first gotten drafted he'd been a bit worried that he'd get stuck with some hard-headed general who'd run their asses into the ground. He suspected that Liam was capable of being just as tough, but he didn't seem like an asshole, which was a definite plus.

"He seems cool." Zayn replied offhandedly, and Harry was struck with the vague notion that there was some part of that sentence that hadn't been said. He suddenly wished he knew Zayn better, that he could read what was really happening behind those hazel eyes of his.

_Well_, he thought as he settled in for the long ride ahead, _it's probably a good thing that I want to get to know him, as we're going to spend a lot of time together over the next few months whether I want to or not._

_xx_

It was ten o'clock when they finally got to the base. Harry wasn't sure how a six hour bus ride ended up taking nearly ten hours, but he was fairly sure it had something to do with the flat tire they'd gotten about halfway through, combined with the dinner stop they'd taken around eight when hunger had nearly driven the group to cannibalism.

They'd invaded some small town diner, delighting the two elderly owners to no end. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement of friendship between Harry and Zayn, and the two navigated the sea of unfamiliar faces together, putting down camp at a quiet table in the corner. They were joined only a few minutes later by three guys who introduced themselves as Olly, Matt and Ed, who actually turned out to be pretty nice. All in all, it had been a much better day than Harry had been expecting, albeit a quite exhausting one. By the time Harry stumbled into the barracks, he was more than ready to collapse onto a bunk and never move again.

"Tired, Styles?" Teased Zayn, mussing his curls as he followed him through the door.

Harry shrugged away from his touch, his voice affecting a whine. "Not the curls, Zayn!"

At which point Zayn decided that best course of action would be to attempt a full assault on his head, nearly tackling him into Olly, who stepped out of the way with a chuckle.

"Help! He's killing me!" Harry shrieked melodramatically, trying and failing to wriggle out of the other boy's grasp.

"I'm not getting involved, mate." Matt replied, holding his hands up and giving the two skirmishing boys a wide berth.

The Sargent's whistle cut through the din, causing Zayn to pause mid-ruffle.

"Alright, lights out guys. We're going to be up at five tomorrow so I'd strongly suggest you get some sleep. Just because it's your first day does not mean we're going to take it easy. In fact, that's an order. Go the fuck to sleep." He smiled, shooting a lazy salute and heading out, the door slamming shut behind him.

Zayn extricated himself from Harry, giving his hair one last muss. "Where are you going to bunk?" He whispered, the former chaos of the barracks reduced to a quiet murmur as everyone found themselves a place to sleep.

"Thinking of climbing in with me?" Asked Harry with a cheeky grin, heading over to what appeared to be an empty bed in the corner.

"Only if you ask really nicely." Zayn replied without missing a beat. "Those two look free."

"That's where I'm headed." Harry tossed his duffel under the bed, hopping onto the cotton sheets. He pulled his shoes off, sending them the way of his bag, followed by his shirt.

A bright, slightly too loud voice interrupted his sleep preparations.

"Hey bunkmate, I'm Niall." A hand entered his field of vision. The owner of the hand, a blonde whose accent Harry placed as decidedly Irish, was grinning down at him, looking too cheerful to have possibly ridden the same bus as Harry had.

"Harry Styles." He took the proffered hand, giving it a firm shake. "Nice to meet you." He gestured vaguely to Zayn, who seemed to have gotten his shirt stuck halfway off. "That's Zayn."

Zayn gave a grunt by way of greeting before he finally managed to disentangle himself from his shirt and shake Niall's hand. "It's a pleasure."

"Sure is." Agreed the irishman as he started up the ladder. "Well, see you lads tomorrow. Bright and early, eh?"

"Yay." Harry replied, flopping down onto his cot with a groan. "Five o'clock in the morning. Just what I wanted."

"You and me both, Styles." Zayn agreed, pulling his covers up to his chin.

"Night Zayn. Niall." Harry whispered as he snuggled into his pillow.

He got a noncommittal grunt from Zayn, who had evidently decided that words were no longer a priority, and a sleepy sounding g'night from Niall. A small smile crept across his face, happy to realize that he'd managed to make it here without any huge blunders, in fact, he'd even made a few friends. He missed his mum and sister, his friends from town, and the warmth of his bed, but maybe, just maybe, this whole being drafted thing wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

**Alright, so ik ik, it starts a lot slower than Cant Fight This, but we're getting there, no worries. Anyway, tell me what you think. This is my first AU, so things are probably going to be a little rocky for a little while, but I hope you're enjoying it so far. (:**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! So our story is finally starting pick up. Our lovely couple have officially met! (:**

"Those are not push ups, Cardle!" Liam yelled over the sound of heavy breathing, watching as one of the recruits' pushups became less like pushups and more like laying on the ground panting. "You actually have to move your arms!"

It was nine, and the whole group had been up for four hours. "Alright, three more minutes and then we all get to go eat. If I see anyone pansying around it'll be five." It was only his first day, but Liam was finding that he enjoyed the authority. It was nice to be the one yelling out orders for once, instead of sweating in the dust.

He stretched his arms above his head, the sleeves of his thin white tee shirt bunching around his shoulders as he did so. The stopwatch in his hand ticked away, counting down the seconds until breakfast.

"Styles get your ass out of the air, it doesn't work if your body isn't level."

The boy readjusted his position with a displeased groan that caused Liam to fight a smile. He liked the curly haired kid, despite his better judgement. He was cheeky, not yet jaded, and had a kind of youthful innocence about him that was oddly refreshing.

His gaze raked over the row of boys, his eyes lingering on a head of shiny dark hair. His brow furrowed as he tried to remember the recruit's name. _What was it. Zack? No, it was something odd. Damnit. Zaid? Zayn? Yeah. That sounded right._

It was strange, he hadn't really paid much attention to him all morning. In fact, he didn't think he'd had to yell at him at all. He'd been too focused on Harry and Lloyd, who seemed to have never experienced actual exercise in their lives. But then as Liam looked back, he could remember the dark haired boy, with his easy stride and calm ability to follow directions. He watched as he lifted himself easily off the ground, the strong line of his shoulders underneath the fabric of his tee shirt, and the way his biceps flexed and curved when he moved.

Liam shook the thoughts from his head, realizing that sometime in the last minute he'd crossed the line between looking and staring. He glanced at the pocket watch, realizing that nearly three minutes had passed while he'd been otherwise absorbed.

He counted down the last five seconds. "5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Alright. Go rinse off and then eat, I want you all back here in an hour."

There was a communal groan as everyone sunk to the ground, sweating and panting. Liam got a small chuckle out of their distress, remembering just how exhausting the first week was, before your body got used to the grueling workouts. He felt his eyes stray to the dark haired boy. He'd turned onto his back, his eyes squeezed shut, chest heaving as he tried to get his breath back. His lips were parted, slightly quirked at the side like he would have been smiling if he hadn't been breathing so hard.

Liam watched as a small bead of sweat slid down by the bow of his lips, suddenly transfixed by the way his mouth was shaped, the curve of it. He was a little bit beautiful, cheeks flushed and shiny with perspiration, and Liam wanted to touch him for reasons he didn't even want to go into.

Luckily, before he had time to truly be confused by the thoughts that had planted themselves in his mind, he was distracted by Niall as he crawled over to Zayn, plopping himself onto the other boy's chest with a cry of _fooooood_.

Zayn pushed him off with a laugh. "Carry me."

Harry joined the conversation from his place on the ground. "Carry _you_? My entire body is made of gelatin and _you_ want to be carried?"

"You three do realize that if you don't hurry, there's probably not going to be any french toast left." Liam added, crossing his arms and waiting for the inevitable reaction.

The change in the group was nearly palpable, as Harry and Niall sprang to their feet. Niall's eyes turned on Liam, big and blue and filled with excitement. "No one said anything about french toast!"

Liam laughed at his expression. "Only Monday mornings. And only as long as it lasts."

Niall sprung up from his place on Zayn, making a beeline for the mess hall.

"You should probably shower first!" Liam called, after them, only garnering a call of 'But french toast!' from Harry, who had followed a bit behind Niall, his gelatinous body evidently finding the strength to carry on. Zayn followed after them at a much slower walk, as did Liam.

"You know, I'm still not sure how I ended up befriending a possibly homicidal leprechaun."

It took Liam a moment to realize that Zayn was talking to him. "Homicidal?"

Zayn nodded with conviction. "No one is that happy after doing that much exercise. No one."

"You seemed to have handled it just fine." Liam said, then wondered if that sounded creepy._ Of course it doesn't, you're the Sargent, you're supposed to watch them_ he mentally chastised himself, wondering what the hell was wrong with him this morning.

"I grew up on a farm. You get used to the work." He shrugged, pushing through the double doors of the mess hall.

"I'm a city kid myself." Liam replied, taking a plate and starting down the queue. "New York."

"I moved there last year." He watched as Zayn scooped some scrambled eggs onto his plate, his eyes transfixed on the white china. "Nice city." There was something about the way he said 'nice city' that made Liam think that 'nice' was not the word he'd really wanted to use. "You know I kindof assumed british when I first heard you talk."

"My mum's from Wolverhampton. That's England. Her accent's rubbed off."

Zayn nodded, and Liam suddenly wondered if he was actually paying attention to him._ What if he was just talking to him because he was the Sargent? Was he boring him? Good God Liam, you're acting like a twelve year old girl. Get yourself together._

"That makes sense." He set a piece of french toast onto his plate, taking a fork and leaving the line. "Well, have a nice breakfast, Sargent Payne." He smiled crookedly, biting his bottom lip in a way that really entirely unfair.

Liam managed a weak nod, his stomach doing uncomfortable flip flops. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he was completely and utterly positive he wanted it to happen again.

_Harry_

The second day of training, Harry found that he had muscles he hadn't previously known to exist, as they decided to scream in protest every time he tried to move. If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was the fact that they had sit down classes for most of the day, exempting a two mile run before lunch.

He, Zayn and Niall walked into their first class a few minutes before it started, hoping to get themselves decent seats. The room was arranged with a chalkboard at the head of the classroom, long rows of tables occupying the remainder. It was just filling up as they entered, Liam standing at the front, arranging a variety of guns on the table before him.

"Having fun over there, Tommo?" He asked, stepping back from his work to roll up his tee shirt sleeves.

Harry's attention moved to the boy Liam was talking to, nearly stopping in his tracks as he got a good look.

In short, he was gorgeous. Light brown hair that swept up out of his face, blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, a strong jaw line, and cheekbones that you could practically cut yourself on. He had his feet on the table, a rifle in his hands and a bright smile on his face. "I'm locked, cocked and loaded, Sarge."

"Terrifying." Liam gave a chuckle, picking up a particularly deadly looking weapon and beginning to disassemble it.

Harry meanwhile, couldn't seem to drag his eyes away from the boy. He was enthralling, the way his body seemed to vibrate with energy, moving even when he was sitting still. He was wearing his fatigues, front hung open in a way that displayed a really criminal amount of his toned chest, his skin smooth and golden and begging to be touched.

It was only Zayn's elbow to his side that jolted him from his daze. "You planning on sitting down?"

Harry nodded, feeling a bit silly. He wondered if taking the chair beside the strange boy would be a socially acceptable thing to do. There was no reason it shouldn't be, right? It wasn't like he knew Harry had been ogling him from the doorway.

Harry paused next to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He was warm under Harry's touch, and he wondered how his hair would feel under his fingers, how his mouth would taste. It wasn't a sin if he never actually did anything, right? "Mind if I sit?"

The boy turned, affixing Harry with an appraising look. "If you'd like."

Harry nodded, sliding into the chair and trying not to took too pleased about the whole thing. "I'm Harry."

"I'm Louis." After a beat, he smiled, as if he'd found Harry satisfactory, and placed the gun he'd been holding carefully on the table. "Nice curls."

"Nice face." _Oh god, he'd actually said that, hadn't he_.

Louis merely seemed amused, a devious little grin playing about his lips. "Just dishing out the compliments, aren't we Curly."

"I guess I was just momentarily dazed by your disgustingly good looks." He joked, trying not let on how close that was to the truth.

Louis wiggled his eyebrows at him, taking his quip and running with it. "Well don't you know how to make a girl feel special." He mimed flipping his hair off of his shoulder, proffering a hand to Harry.

"I do try." Harry grinned, taking Louis' hand and brushing his lips across his knuckles, trying not to let his lips linger too long. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Oh likewise, Mr.-" He paused, waiting for Harry to finish the sentence.

"Styles."

Louis pulled his hand slowly back, giving Harry a smirky little grin as he rolled the words around his mouth. "Harry Styles. I think I'm going to have to get to know you."

Before Harry could manage a reply, Sargent Payne called the class to order, beginning what promised to be at least a relatively interesting lesson. It probably would have been more interesting if Louis hadn't been gnawing the tip of his pencil the entire time or their knees hadn't brushed more than a few times, but it was a price Harry was glad to pay.

He wondered if maybe this was what having a crush felt like.

**So! Some Larry and some Ziam :D Oh how I love Ziam. Too hot. Can't deal. Anyway, le gusta? Tell me what you think! Your feedback is like a drug to me. #whendidibecomeedwardcullen #nevergoingback**


	4. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone! So it's been a long week but here we are! Thankyou all for the lovely reviews, you're all fantastic. Hope you enjoy! (:**

_Harry_

It had been a long week and Harry was incredibly grateful when Saturday night came around. The boys all got Sunday off, and therefore Saturday night was a sacred time left for faffing about and staying up a little bit too late.

Since the first Monday, their barrack had split into factions. There was Harry, Zayn, and Niall, now often joined by Louis, and the slightly bigger faction of Matt, Lloyd, Ed, Joe, and Olly. On the fringes were two guys named Steve and Shayn, and a really quiet guy whose name Harry wasn't sure of.

At the moment, Harry's group had stationed themselves on his bed, a deck of cards set between them as they attempted to play rummy. The other boys were partaking in similar activities on the floor near them, a small pool of coins and a lone bottle of liquor sitting in the center of their game.

Harry picked up a card, quickly scanned his hand, then lay down four sevens, a cheerful smile on his face. "Your turn, Zayn."

"Pass me a card." He said, refusing to move from his spot by the wall. He had once again settled in a position Harry could not imagine to be comfortable, his back crooked, head against the wall, feet resting on his bed post.

"For someone who has no trouble with the training exercises, you're fucking lazy." Harry teased, flicking a card to him.

"I just don't like to move unless I have to. Sitting around and looking pretty is really my forte."

"You're a twat."

Zayn leered at him. "I'm beautiful."

Harry flipped him off, a smile accompanying the motion. As it turned out, Harry's initial assessment of Zayn had been correct. He did like to keep to himself, but as Harry got to know him, a much sillier side began to present itself. "Niall it's your go."

The irishman picked up a card, smiling widely. "ACES!" He slammed the group down, the black and red As sharp against the white cards.

"Not bad, Nialler." Louis smiled, leaning to pick up a card, then discarding it with a mournful shrug. "I've got nothing. Your turn, Hazza."

The nickname made him pause, his chest filling with a sort of tight happiness at the endearment. A lot of people called him Curly, but Hazza was new. "Hazza?"

"You like it?" He smiled, looking incredibly pleased with himself at the nickname. It was simply adorable.

Since their class together, Harry had managed to get his feelings under control enough to talk to the guy, but there was something about him that still made Harry feel a little bit giddy every time he looked at him.

"It's cute, Lou Bear." He replied, trying out a nickname of his own.

Louis seemed to glow at the endearment. "Hazza and Lou Bear. I like it."

Harry took his turn, and though he didn't have anything, Louis had said Lou Bear and Hazza like it was something special, and in many ways that was better than winning all the games in the world.

"You know what I miss most about home?" Prompted Niall, peering over the top of his cards. "My bed. And home cooked meals. But mostly my bed. These beds are so uncomfortable."

"I miss being able to move without my entire body hurting." Harry complained, leaning back against the wall by Louis' feet. "But we can't all get what we want."

Niall just laughed, his whole face consumed by the chuckle. "My brother Greg says the first week's the hardest, it does get better."

"It better get goddamn better, I can barely move my fucking neck." Harry grumbled in reply.

"I miss my sisters and my mum." Added Louis. "I wonder how they're doing without me."

"I miss my girlfriend!" Called Olly from the nearby game, interrupting the impending mushiness.

"Me too." Louis agreed, causing three heads to whip towards him.

"You've got a girl back home?" Asked Zayn as he reached for a card, looking like he was trying very hard to keep disbelief off of his face and not doing all that well.

"Yep." Louis smiled. "She's great."

Meanwhile, Harry was still trying to put the pieces together. Louis had a girl? Not that he had assumed... but, it just seemed so unlikely, so strange. The thought of Louis walking around with some pretty woman on his arm made his chest contract in a way that was not entirely pleasant. "What's her name?"

Louis turned to him, the oddest look in his eyes. "Eleanor."

"She sounds nice." He hoped he sounded heartfelt, but the words seemed to fall flat. He tried to cover the awkward silence that was quickly creeping up on them by directing his attention back to the game. "Niall, your turn."

Niall picked up a card, nearly upending the discard pile in the process.

Louis dived to save it, catching the sliding cards just in time.

"I told you it was a bad idea to play on the bed." Zayn complained, shuffling his cards between his fingers.

"It'd be a perfectly fine idea if Niall didn't insist on jostling the entire mattress!" Countered Louis, poking Niall in the side with his foot, causing the other boy to fold in on himself.

"No! I'm ticklish!"

This only seemed to spur Louis on, abandoning his cards in favor of launching himself at Niall and going into full tickle mode. The blonde flailed, completely decimating the game and sending cards flying as he tried in vain to avoid Louis' nimble fingers.

Harry backed away from the carnage, preferring, as Zayn did, to view from afar with a small smirk of amusement. By the time Louis had decided that Niall'd had enough (the Irishman was nearly in tears from laughter, his face a bright pink) the deck had been scattered to all corners of the bed and onto the floor.

Niall slid onto the ground as well, wiping his face with gasping giggle. "I hate you so much."

Louis grinned down at him. "That's not true."

"Fair enough." He stood with a groan. "Alright, if we're done playing, I'm heading for bed. I'm tired."

Louis made an L with his hand, holding it out to the younger boy. "Lame! It's early yet."

Niall ignored him, climbing the ladder up to his bunk and flopping down onto the mattress. "

"I think I'm going to go for a smoke." Zayn said, pushing himself to his feet with a heavy sigh.

Harry motioned to the cards currently littering the area. "Or you could smoke in here and help me with this mess."

Zayn held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. "I am not responsible for this monstrosity. Besides, I want to get some fresh air before bed."

"Rude."

Zayn just shrugged, pulling on his jacket and heading out into the cool Spring night, leaving Harry and Louis to pick up the cards. It took one look at Louis curling up in Harry's sheets for him to realize that the sandy haired boy was most certainly not going to help and so he sighed in annoyance, beginning a solitary game of 52 pickup.

By the time he finally managed to gather up the entire deck, part of which had ended up a good ten feet away, Louis had completely taken over his bed, curled up in his sheets, his head resting on Harry's pillow.

"Lou. Lou move. Lou that's my bed." Louis, who seemed to actually have fallen asleep, didn't wake, the soft fluttering of his chest the only evidence that he was alive at all.

Harry ran a hand through his curls, going over his options. He supposed he could wake him, but he looked so peaceful laying there, like he hadn't a care in the world. He could sleep in Louis' bed, it would only be fair, but it was a top bunk, and there had been a reason Harry had gone for the lower level. Sleeping anywhere he had to climb down from gave him the creeps.

Or he could climb into bed with him. It wasn't every day completely gorgeous boys fell asleep on Harry's bed, even completely gorgeous boys with girlfriends. So he did the logical thing, slipping his shirt off and sliding under the covers next to him. He was careful not to touch him, only curl up on the pillow next to his sleeping form, their faces inches apart, his steady breaths soft on Harry's face.

He wanted to touch him so badly, to feel Louis' skin underneath his fingers and Louis' fingers on him, wanted to know how his body felt, wanted to memorize the lines of his frame and the thump of his heartbeat. But he knew that wasn't an option.

For the moment, he was content to snuggle as close to the other boy as he dared, letting his hand creep across the mattress, stopping it just before Louis', so their fingers touched, nothing more.

The contact, tiny and lovely, was enough. And Harry fell asleep, drowning in the brush of their fingers.

_Zayn_

Zayn stepped from the barracks, letting the cool night sink over him, washing the tension from his shoulders. He pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it and bringing it to his lips, taking a long drag. The smoke filled his lungs and he tipped his head back, puffing a long stream of vapor up at the stars that sprinkled the heavens.

He liked it here, liked to loose himself in the pounding of his feet on dirt paths and the thrumming of his muscles until he didn't have to think anymore. He liked the boys, how they didn't pry, how they accepted him for who he was without question. He liked them, but sometimes he just needed to step away for a moment, to stand outside with a cigarette, just him and the soft whisper of the trees. He puffed smoke from his lips, blowing tiny rings up into the night as he wandered towards the row of evergreens that stretched all the way to the mess hall.

He'd just reached the trees when he caught a flicker of movement on the other side. A brief moment of panic gripped him, quickly turning to wariness as he tried to identify the source of the motion. He hid his cigarette behind his hand, hoping whoever it was hadn't spotted him first.

"Who's there?" It was the Sargent, his voice quiet and wary in the still darkness. Zayn cursed under his breath, trying to remember if he was breaking any rules by being out here. He supposed either way he didn't have the time to try and hide or run away, so it was probably better to just come out with it. "It's me."

"Zayn? He recognized the off white of Liam's tee shirt in the cool light of the half moon as he ducked under the evergreen boughs to reach him.

"What brings you out here?" Sargent Payne asked conversationally, dissuading any fears Zayn had been harboring.

"Went out for a smoke, Sir." He replied, tacking the sir on as an afterthought.

"Just call me Liam." He smiled, looking almost unsure of himself.

"Alright, Liam." He started to walk again, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling sharply. "So why are you out here so late?"

"Running. I liked to get a mile or two in before I got to bed."

Zayn nodded, noticing the way his shirt clung to the contours of his chest. "I used to run a lot back in the city. It's a good way not to think." He mentally slapped himself. Why had he even said that? Liam was the Sargent, and someone he'd only talked to one on one about three times, and now here he was, ready to spill his guts to him.

"Not think about what?" Zayn looked hard at him, realizing that behind he curiosity, he could see genuine concern in Liam's eyes.

"Everything." He felt the strongest urge to tell him just what everything entailed, but made a concentrated effort to keep his mouth shut. It wouldn't have been so difficult if Liam hadn't been so damn attractive. Zayn had been trying to deny it for the better part of the week, ignoring the deep curve of his jaw, how his tee shirts stretched and molded to his biceps and broad, muscular shoulders. Sure, Louis was pretty, Harry was cute, and Niall mind-numbingly adorable, but Liam was just incredibly fucking hot.

"I'm sorry." His words were spoken in a low, careful voice, his tone laced with comfort that made Zayn's chest contract with something that hurt a little more than happiness.

Liam shoved his hands in his pockets, and suddenly Zayn could see him, really truly see him, not as the Sargent but as someone who'd been dragged into this war just as he'd been, who'd gotten trapped in something much bigger than himself. In that moment Zayn realized that Liam was just as he was, completely and utterly lost.

It was only his voice that jolted Zayn from his revelation. "So why did you enlist?"

"How did you know I wasn't drafted?" He didn't want to be surprised, maybe even a little flattered that Liam had been paying attention, but he was.

For a second, Zayn thought he detected a bit of a blush on the other boy's cheeks. "I go through all my recruits' files. I like to know what I'm getting myself into."

Of course. It was nothing special, just something he did for all the guys. Zayn wasn't sure why he felt just a little bit disappointed.

The two reached the mess hall, and Zayn leaned against the brick, inhaling a lungful of smoke and puffing little smoke rings in Liam's direction. They bubbled from his mouth, curling in Liam's hair and twisting around his strong features.

"It was all I had left."

Liam jumped at his voice, as if his attention had drifted. "Sorry, I uh, got, your mouth..." He seemed to fumble with his hands for a moment, before crossing them over his chest. "What did you say?"

Zayn pierced Liam with a searching stare, setting his hands on his hips. "What were you saying about my mouth?"

This time, he was sure of it, a pink tint had risen on Liam's cheeks. "It's nothing."

Zayn leaned back so his body was flush against the brick, dangling his cigarette between his first and second finger, suddenly aware that he was treading in dangerous waters. "It didn't sound like nothing."

"I didn't mean..." He moved towards Zayn, and the dark haired boy had the distinct feeling that Liam really hadn't mean to, but now there were inches between their faces and neither of them seemed to be able to pull away. "I just- Shit."

Zayn reached out slowly, dropping his cigarette to the ground and resting the tips of his fingers on Liam's hips, wordlessly beckoning him forward. Liam's hands crept up to Zayn's face, cupping his and pulling him so their noses brushed.

"I have no idea what I'm doing." He whispered, his eyes wide with something that was a whole lot like fear.

"I usually just try not think about it." Zayn replied, pressing his mouth to Liam's with careful slowness, letting himself melt into the other boy's arms. Liam's hands tightened around his jaw, sandwiching Zayn between the wall and his body, the contours of their hips fitting together as their lips locked.

Zayn just held on, letting Liam take control, the younger boy's arms pressed against the brick behind Zayn's head, bending his head down so Zayn had to look up into the kiss. Zayn could feel blood rushing in his ears as Liam's body pressed against his, skin burning where it touched. It was like he was on fire, the cool night crackling with tension.

His mind was reeling, wondering how he'd ended up here, their tongues sliding together, lips soft and wet and hands moving slowly, ever so slowly across each other's bodies. He hadn't pegged Liam for the type, and he had the distinct feeling that Liam hadn't pegged himself as the type either. There was something frantic to his movements, as if he was even more confused than Zayn was, but had no idea how to stop.

Not that Zayn was all that sure how to end it either. Not that he really wanted to. Liam finally managed to detach their mouths, his doe eyes wide, breathing unsteady. "Zayn?"

Zayn brought two fingers up to Liam's mouth, pressing them to the soft skin of his lips. "I won't tell if you wont."

He breathed the next two words like a sigh of relief, letting his body slide away from Zayn's. "Thankyou."

"It's nothing." He smiled in a way he meant to be reassuring, hoping that Liam couldn't see the way his hands were shaking from the proximity or how his heart had hopped into his throat with the realization of what had just happened.

"I'll see you." Liam coughed under his breath, refusing to meet his eyes. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay." Zayn watched the older boy walk away, pulling another cigarette from his pocket with trembling fingers and muffled curses. He wasn't going to do this. It was going to end badly. But then, as Zayn watched the long sturdy line of Liam's body as he walked away he was struck with a single, horrifying realization: he was already in too deep.

**OH GOD THE ZIAM IN THIS STORY IS JUST KILLING ME. HOLY CHRIST. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO LARRY WITH BACKGROUND ZIAM BUT OH MY LORD. JESUS TAKE THE ENTIRE EISENHOWER EXPRESSWAY.**  
**Anyway. Tell me what you think! (:**


	5. Chapter 4

**No shh what are you talking about this was up friday dont be silly. I wish I could say this chapter is super quality to make up for the fact that it's late but I finished it like ten minutes ago so idk it's alright. Sorry, I had finals and time got away from me! But I'm on Summer break right now so hopefully it wont happen again. Anyway, hope it's alright(:**

Chapter 4

_Louis_

Louis woke up to the sun streaming through the window by the door and the soft words of Matt and Lloyd as they whispered near the doorway. He looked around in bleary eyed confusion before his eyes landed on Harry's sleeping frame and he remembered snuggling up in the other boys covers and resting his eyes for what was only supposed to be a moment.

The curly haired boy snored lightly beside him, his body shaped in a loose C, half his head buried in the pillow. Louis shifted on the mattress, careful not to wake the younger boy as he propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at him, his gaze tracing the lines of Harry's body.

If Louis could have used one word to describe him in the moment it would have been soft. Soft brown curls that splayed across the pillow, soft lips that parted slightly as he breathed, soft skin that hid hard muscle.

He found, as he lay in his bed, that he quite liked Harry. He was sweet, young, and just a little bit naive. Louis grinned, the expression turning almost feral.

_This was going to be fun._

_Harry_

Harry awoke to a slightly unpleasant tapping sensation on his nose. He fought down the surge of annoyance that seized him, pulling away from the source of the irritation and bundling himself under the sheets.

"Oh come on Haz. The sun is shining, the air is clear, and you are missing out on the sight of my disgustingly attractive face." Harry rolled his face into the mattress at the sound of Louis' voice, taking a moment to wonder why the hell the other boy thought that interfering with his morning of precious sleep was a good idea.

So far as Harry had noticed, Louis Tomlinson operated at a constant speed of 1000 miles per hour, and at the moment, Harry was doing about 5. Maybe 3.

Louis rolled him over, ignoring his mewling protests, moving to sit on his chest. "Hi Harry."

Harry groaned, giving Louis a world weary sigh and trying not to notice how attractive he looked with his hair mussed and shirt off. It should be illegal for someone to look that hot so early in the morning.

"Get the fuck off me." He grumbled, shielding his eyes like if he tried hard enough he could ward off the impending day.

"If you insist." Louis slid off, his feet hitting the floor with a soft thump. There was a brief moment of bliss before his hands wrapped around Harry's ankles, tugging him onto the floor.

Harry attempted to roll away from Louis' fingers into the relative safety of the space underneath his bed, letting out a cry of disapproval. "Why are you doing this to meeee?"

"Because my darling Harry," He said, gripping Harry's chin and pointing it in the direction of his smiling face. "We're going on an adventure."

"That sounds like an awful idea." Harry replied, standing and moving to pull on a clean shirt. "I haven't even eaten yet."

Louis make a tsking noise under his breath. "Adventure first, breakfast later. Besides, they're probably down to toast at this point."

"I like toast." Harry replied morosely, letting the older boy tug him out the door and into the bright May sunlight. It was a truly lovely Sunday, all sunshine and light breeze.

"See, aren't you having fun?" Asked Louis as they started down one of the winding paths that criss crossed the property. Harry watched in badly concealed amusement as the older boy practically bounded ahead of him, excitement in every step he took.

"I'd be having a bit more fun if I had any idea where we were going." Harry complained, a smile twitching across his face no matter how hard he tried to suppress it.

"There." Louis pointed up to a large evergreen about twenty feet away.

Harry raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, staring up at the green monstrosity. "Any particularly reason?"

Louis smiled. "We're going to climb it."

Harry let out a short barking laugh, pointing indignantly to himself. "We? _You_ can climb that tree, I most certainly am not."

Louis gave him a sassy look. "I did not bring you all the way out here so you could chicken out, Haz."

"I never said I would in the first place!" Harry laughed, still trailing the slighter boy towards the towering tree. He knew it was probably not a good idea. He knew that Louis, despite the rather effeminate way he had about him, was straight, and this was probably just going to end up giving him more feelings he didn't need. But as Louis turned to look at him, his hand on the lowest branch of the tree, a wicked smile on his face, Harry could do nothing but follow him.

Louis leaned over to lift his chin with a finger, their eyes meeting in a way that send Harry's heart hammering into his throat. "I knew you'd come around." With a grin nearly too big for his face he let Harry go, swinging himself up onto the first branch and heading for one higher up.

Harry, not to be left behind, shook off his daze and clambering up after him. He looked up through the boughs, noticing the slight muscle of Louis' arms, how it flexed as he pulled himself up.

_Stop it, Styles. This is a bad move. Nothing good will come of this. Oh__** fuck.**__ God of course he has a fantastic ass. Of fucking course. Fuck everything._ Harry let out a sigh, pulling himself up particularly difficult part of the tree, trying not to focus too much on Louis' bum, which was incredibly difficult considering that it was practically within arms reach.

_That fucking tease. _

Just when Harry's arms were getting tired and his self restraint began wavering dangerously, Louis slowed his climbing, settling onto a thick nest of branches. He patted the bark next to him, gesturing for Harry to sit. The curly haired boy obliged, sitting so his back was pressed up against the trunk and his legs swinging on either side of the branch, facing Louis.

"So you've got me up here, what do you want?" Asked Harry, crossing his arms over his chest, careful to stay upright by use of the trunk behind him.

Louis pretended to be affronted be Harry's accusatory tone. "Purely for the pleasure of your company Mister Styles!"

Harry gave him a look. "Why do I feel as if you have some dastardly plan centered around all this?"

"I'm truly hurt, Harold. You wound me." Louis grinned, leaning back from the branch he was sitting on to rest his back on the one behind him, extending his arms out of the bark. The smell of pine filled the air, crisp and nearly minty, offset by the warm dusty breeze that swept the boughs. "I just wanted to talk to you."

Harry tried ignore, for about the tenth time this morning, the way Louis' words made his stomach twist into nervous knots. "What about?"

Louis shrugged, leaning his head back so he could stare up at the chinks of blue sky. "Whatever you want."

"Anything I want?" Harry asked with a crooked smirk, thinking of the multitude of less than appropriate things he certainly wouldn't mind talking to Louis about.

"Anything. We could talk about boys and braid each other's hair." He replied with a crooked smile of his own.

Harry grinned, reaching for Louis' fringe with his fingers. "That Sargent Payne's pretty dreamy, don't you think?"

Louis leaned into Harry's touch, letting the younger boy card through his hair in a poor imitation of braiding. "Great body, but a bit of a butterface overall really."

"Not a fan of the strong jawed military types?" Harry asked with a laugh, feeling strangely that this conversation wasn't as much of a joke as it had been intended to be.

Louis shrugged, doing a rather unfair thing with his eyebrows that really bordered on seductive and probably shouldn't be allowed. "He's a bit too serious for my taste, really. Boys like him are no fun, always too concerned about what they're _supposed_ to be doing."

Harry let his hands drop from Louis' hair, sliding them into the pockets of his pants and cocking his head to the side, wondering if Louis really had a girl back home at all. There was something oddly natural in his critique of Liam, as if he'd thought about it before, and not in a platonic manner. "And what are you concerned with?"

Louis shrugged again, his shoulders lilting almost elegantly. "Living fast, having fun, and being a little mischievous." There was some hidden kind of promise in the word mischievous that made Harry's skin tingle.

"What exactly does that entail?" Harry asked, feeling as if he was issuing some kind of dare.

"What would you like it to entail?" He asked, leaning towards the younger boy, a sly quirk to smile. Harry watched him, marveling at the way his blue eyes seemed to sparkle with vitality and something vaguely naughty. His entire body vibrated with an electrical energy that gave a special kindof life to his movements and a bounce to his step. He moved even when he was sitting still. Harry kindof love it.

Harry backed against the tree trunk, the bark rough against his neck. "Lou...?" The word was supposed to have been a question but was more of a low gasp, a soft exhale of breathe that was cut off my Louis' lips on his.

The older boy's hands tangled in his curls, fingertips brushing against his skull and making him shiver into Louis' arms. He knew he should feel some measure of surprise, maybe alarm, but really he'd had his doubts about Louis' sexuality from the start. Boys did not simply fall asleep in each other's beds platonically, they did not wake each other up by sitting on each other's chests, and they call each other things like Haz and Boo. Well actually, they did, but not with quite so much sass and flamboyancy.

Harry brought the hand that was not occupied with keeping him on the tree up to Louis' neck, pulling him down and letting himself sink into his kiss. Louis smiled against his lips, pulling back just as Harry had let his eyes flutter closed, drawing the pads of his fingers down Harry's cheeks.

"Cute dimples, babe." He said, running his tongue under his top lip with a smirk and releasing Harry completely, starting back down the tree. "See you at dinner, yeah?"

"_Excuse me?_" Harry spluttered, his hand coming to rest bemusedly at his lips, his brain trying to catch up with what was happening.

"You know, dinner? The thing in the evening where we eat?" Louis called up from lower in the tree.

And that was definitely not what Harry had meant but by the time he thought up an appropriate response Louis was already strutting across the grass, a self satisfied lilt to his steps that left Harry amused, confused, and just the smallest bit turned on.

**Oh Louis. Oh you sassy motherfucker.**


	6. Chapter 5

**Alright so as I'm getting my wisdom teeth out in a bit, I want to make sure to get this out now. (:**

Chapter 5

_Zayn_

Zayn prided himself just the smallest bit on his ability to read people, which was why he was currently watching Louis and Harry with no small amount of interest. Harry seemed to be concentrating very hard on the task of ignoring Louis, the latter of which was taking quite a bit of joy in brushing his fingers over Harry whenever he got the opportunity, making Harry jump ever so slightly no matter how many times he did it.

Zayn took a long drink of water, watching as Louis leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear, their proximity bordering on intimate. And that didn't even begin to cover the way Harry nearly squirmed as Louis' lips brushed his ear.

Zayn rolled his eyes, returning to his food. _Gay. Gay gay gay gay gay._ Not that he was judging, but he couldn't help but find the whole dynamic just a little bit hilarious, especially after what had happened with Liam. His cheeks flushed just the slightest bit with the memory, wondering if Liam's 'I'll see you tomorrow' was an '_I'll see you tomorrow because I'm kindof the Sargent and we generally see each other_' or, as he was really hoping, '_I'll see you tomorrow and maybe possibly kiss your face._'

It wasn't like he had any deep emotional ties to the guy, but it was strange, standing with him outside the mess hall had felt so easy, the kiss, the talking, it was easier than breathing. And he wanted more.

"Watch it, faggot."

Zayn's head whipped up, a familiar rush of fear making him grip his cutlery with unnecessary force. _Oh god, not again, not here. Had someone seen the kiss? Did someone know?_ But the owner of the voice, Shayn, had his eyes trained on Louis, who was looking up at him with nothing less than disdain.

"Excuse me?" Louis asked, and if Zayn hadn't been so worried about the unfolding situation he would have been amused by the sheer amount of sass in his voice.

Shayne looked down at him, his lip curling. "I saw you two last night. It's fucking sick."

Harry appeared at Louis' side, his green gaze serious, brow furrowed as he stared the larger boy down. Zayn noticed how Louis moved ever so slightly between the two, angling his body so he was in front, like a shield. It was a small movement, and Zayn wondered if he even knew he'd made it.

"Saw what? Us sleeping in the same bed? How gay. I can really see why you're so concerned." Louis replied, and Zayn was nearly sure he could see the smallest bit of fear flicker in his eyes. Louis was strong, but if it came down to a fight, Shayne could probably take him with size alone.

"Don't pretend you aren't. You're a fucking fairy if I've ever seen one, this was just proof."

Louis opened his mouth to reply, but Zayn cut him off, sensing that this conversation was not going to get anymore civil if it was allowed to progress. "Shayn, leave them alone." He caught Louis' blue eyes, relief washing through them at his intervention. He gave the other boy a curt nod, knowing far too well what it was like to be in that position.

Shayn turned to look at him, his eyes challenging. Jesus christ, was the douche _looking_ for a fight? "He fucking you too, Zayn? Didn't take you for the type."

Zayn almost laughed at the statement. _Oh honey, if only you knew_. "No. But I can look at two blokes and not jump to conclusions, as you seemed to be so fond of doing."

A grin spread across Shayne's face, making Zayn's blood run cold. "Here's the Sargent. Let's see what he has to say about you two."

Zayn suppressed the vindictive grin that threatened to creep across his face as Liam appeared behind Harry, taking a quick overview of the situation. "Is there a problem here, boys?"

Shane's blue eyes were taunting as he spoke. "Caught these two asleep together last night."

Liam gave him a blank look, leaning up against the table. Zayn leaned his chin into his hand, using his fingers to block a smile as he watched the older boy.

"Really? Awful isn't it, sleeping." He replied, the soft lilt of his accent making Zayn's skin crawl in a way that was far from unpleasant.

Shayne shook his head, leaning forward, as if he thought the Sargent hadn't understood. "No, like together, in the same bed."

"Wow Shayne." Liam said calculatedly, his eyes backed by a darkness that made Zayn feel a little nervous, and he wasn't even on their receiving end. "You seem really bothered by this."

Shayne gestured wildly at Louis and Harry. "Well of course I am! It's sick."

Liam tapped his fingers against the wood of the table, examining the soldier in a way that reminded Zayn of the way a cat looked at a mouse right before it pounced. "You know, if I didn't know better I'd think you were a little bit jealous. You aren't jealous, are you?"

The blue eyed boy spluttered in response, clearly annoyed that this conversation as not going the way he'd planned. "Of course not! I'm not a fag like them!"

Zayn could nearly see the snap in Liam, the exact moment he stopped having fun.

"You know Shayne, I think that when I first spoke to you I said something about everyone here being one of my boys. And I don't care what you're implying, or rather, suggesting, because I honestly don't give a shit whether or not these two are, as you so lovingly referred to them, fags. I don't know what you were expecting me to do about this, but I expect you to keep your fucking mouth shut and mind your own business, do you understand me?"

Shayne stared at the Sargent, his eyes wide and twitching, looking as if he regretted this whole conversation very much.

Liam took a slow step forward, his entire body communicating authority. When he spoke, his voice was low and commanding. "_Do you understand me?_"

Shayne nodded, looking unhappy at being told off by someone he didn't have the authority to dispute. "Yes, sir."

"You know," Said Liam, a ponderous looking coming over his face. "I think you mentioned something about taking an early night."

The blue eyed boy looked momentarily confused, but quickly found himself nodding and rushing out of the mess hall. Zayn watching him go for a moment, before turning his gaze to Liam, who happened to be looking right back at him, his eyes still holding that earlier fire.

Zayn quirked his lips into the smallest of smiles, giving Liam a tiny nod. He returned it, turning to move up the table row. Zayn watched him go, once more admiring his shoulders and the dip of his waist, only stopping when he realized that Liam wasn't walking away, he was going around the table and heading straight for Zayn.

The dark haired boy tried to play it cool, but he couldn't seem to draw his eyes away as the Sargent approached, remembering ever so vividly how his lips tasted, how his hips felt underneath his hands.

Liam gave him another nod. "Hey."

Zayn smiled, wishing suddenly that they were alone. Not so they could kiss, though he certainly wouldn't mind that, but to thank Liam for what he'd done. It had been brave and heroic and just fucking nice of him to stand up to Shayne instead of joining in. Not to mention really fucking arousing, but that was entirely beside the point.

"Hi."

Liam fiddled with his hands a bit, looked down at his shoes. Zayn smiled; _so he was nervous too_. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then swooped down so his lips were alarmingly close to Zayn's ear. As he paused there for a moment, breath tickling the skin there, Zayn suddenly understood why Harry had squirmed.

His voice was quiet, barely even a whisper, like he wanted to make completely sure no one heard. "I can't stop thinking about you."

Zayn nodded, trying to keep his answers generic, so he could talk freely. "I know."

He heard Liam's breath hitch. "Tomorrow. After the sun goes down, could you, maybe...?"

Zayn turned to look at him, their faces nearly brushing. "Where?"

Liam took a nervous breath, staring down at Zayn like he was transfixed. "Mess hall."

Zayn nodded, excitement making it impossible not to grin. "Alright."

Liam nodded back, looking equally thrilled. "Alright."

"So, bye?" Zayn asked, feeling Louis' eyes on him, and realizing that this exchange was moving slightly out of the realm of platonic.

"Bye." He gave a tiny little wave, heading back over to the staff table. Zayn smiled as he watched him go, liking the rush of warmth that spread through his body because of Liam's attention.

Zayn turned to his food, trying and failing to avoid Louis' gaze. The other boy gave him a knowing look, his blue eyes sparkling with this new piece of gossip. Zayn shook his head ever so slightly. _Don't you dare say a word._

Louis rolled his eyes, but nodded, only to have his attention diverted as Harry sat down next to Zayn. Harry smiled over at him as he settled in, forking up some potatoes.

He held them out like he was examining them for imperfections, just the littlest bit unwilling to meet Zayn's eyes. "Thanks for that, mate."

Zayn nodded, waiting until the curly haired boy flicked his gaze over to return the smile. He liked Harry, quite a bit actually. He'd been the first guy he'd met coming here, and he was nice, in a genuine, cheeky sort of way. "It's nothing. Really."

A small silence fell over their section of the table as each boy fell into their thoughts. Louis had returned to smirking at him, Harry was eying the older boy, Zayn was trying to keep the ridiculous smile off his face, and Niall was just sitting down next to Louis.

"You guys need to try this gravy. It is probably the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."

Louis held his hands out. "Well then you better pass the goddamn gravy boat, Nialler."

And that was the end of that.

**I'm always nervous to write confrontation scenes, because a lot of times they get a bit overdramatic, but I feel like this went decently well, so I hoped you liked it. Plus authoritative Liam is something I always enjoy so... *shrugs* Thankyou all for the feedback, you're all absolutely lovely (:**


	7. Sorry So Much For Sucking Everyone

So I'm a bad person. A really bad person. The kind of person who bails on fics not even halfway through after hiding from them for literally a month... I know. I apologize, I'm terrible, you can send me angry messages and tp my house, I'll totally understand. But hey, now you get to be spared the pain of having me kill Liam, which I was totally going to do! And besides, I will leave you with the actually abominable makeout scene I started multiple times and I was never able to finish, at which point we will bid this story adieu. I know I know, why on Earth would I possibly abandon this story? Well readers, I am in the midst of a Larry so heartwrenching that I will probably actually die writing it. It's loosely based off of John Green's, The Fault In Our Stars, and I'll probably start publishing that later this Summer. In the mean time, I really am sorry about this, I just really lost interest, and to be quite honest, this never really had much of a plot to begin with. .

Chapter 6

_Liam_

Liam sat on table nearest to the door, his stare burning a hole in the wood. He leaned back on his elbows, his feet dangling off the side as he tried not to worry about how long he'd been sitting here. He'd said after the sun went down, and the sun was down, wasn't it?

He let out a sigh, staring up at the ceiling. _This is what you get for not setting a time, idiot. _

_Either that or he's stood you up._

He pushed the less than enjoyable thoughts from his head, focusing on more positive things like the way Zayn's lips has felt on his or the way their bodies had crushed together. Still, he actually felt a little guilty about the whole thing, since he wasn't gay, or even single for that matter.

_Danielle._ She'd be torn apart if she ever found out.

But it wasn't like he was being completely unfaithful, he planned to marry her as soon as he got back. Zayn was just... Zayn was just a distraction.

To be honest, he had no idea where these feelings had come from. One day everything had been completely normal, and the next he was obsessing over some dark haired recruit. There was just something wondrous about his dusty skin and deep brown eyes framed by long, dark lashes, and Liam wasn't sure he could stay away if he tried. He wanted to touch him again, feel him on his skin.

The sound of the door jolted him from his reverie, and he jerked his head up, finding Zayn standing uncertainly in the doorway. Liam sat up, running a hand through his hair.

"Hi."

Zayn smiled, biting his lip. _He does that when he's nervous_, Liam observed, _its cute_. "Hi."

"I thought you weren't going to come."

Zayn stuck his hands in his pockets, shrugging. "It took me a bit to sneak out."

"So..." Liam kicked his feet back and forth. "Do you want to talk?"

Zayn seemed to consider the question before taking a few determined steps forward so he stood between Liam's legs, his torso up against the edge of the table. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to kiss you first."

Liam smiled, taking Zayn's face in his hands, the stubble there tickling his fingers. "Completely understandable."

THE END.  
Wow. I suck.

But hey, at least I'm telling you, I did this on a Dramione a while back, right after the climax because I couldn't figure out how to end it and I literally made a new account instead of just writing the goddamn ending. But I wouldn't do that to you lovely people. Because I love you.

Also, I've kindof moved to AO3 so if you'd like to visit me there go for it. I'm still Feels For Breakfast. Which is actually a new name but smutmuffin was like a three in the morning decision so you know how that is.


End file.
